Pirate Radio (Enjoltaire)
by I'm-not-Anna
Summary: After the completely crap year that was 2016 a few things go down the drain, including most of the worlds governments apparently. This starts a chain reaction that somehow leads to the activist group of friends that call themselves the ABC living on two sailing yachts off the coast of southern France, broadcasting Pirate Radio and Grantaire is not pleased about any of it.
1. The Meeting

There had been hypothetical talk about it for weeks, if not months but Grantaire never actually expected the day to come.

"You can't be serious?" He snorted, almost amused. Enjolras had plenty of preposterous ideas over the years, but this one took the cake. "Pirate radio? What is this? The 60's?"

"We wouldn't only be broadcasting our-"

"That's right. You also want to personally attack whalers. Not even you, Apollo, can take on men armed with harpoons and expect to get away with it." Grantaire hissed at Enjolras who was glaring at him with the same irritated expression he usually wore when dealing with the Grantaire.

A silence filled the room, an unusual silence since Grantaire's words where almost always met with either a counterargument or a plea for him to leave the room before his face became the target of fist moving at high speeds.

It almost made him so uncomfortable that no one spoke for as long as they did and he'd seriously contemplated leaving by the time Combeferre said: "We don't want to do this, R. We really don't. But something came up and-"

"What?"

"Pardon?"Combeferre's ability to stay calm whenever Grantaire was being a nuisance was more then a little bit impressive. The rest of the ABC put up with Grantaire because they actually liked him. He was friends with Eponine, Joly, Bossuet, Bahorel and even Jehan before any of then knew Enjolras, and everyone else took to him rather quickly, even seeing him as there go to drinking buddy. Mainly because he was always drinking.

Combeferre and Enjolras where the only two that didn't talk to him outside of meetings in which all Grantaire ever did was be a deliberate menace in an attempt to get Enjolras' attention, as petty as that may sound.

He does argue for more reasons then just that. The week previous when he told Enjolras that there protest against the banning of gay marriage was pointless and that humanity had reached it's peek and was exponentially working it's way back into the middle ages, he had meant every words.

Things like that weren't just for the sake of making his presence aware to Enjolras. The 'I told you so' when they got themselves thrown in a cell at the protest, however, was.

Grantaire's efforts where hardly ever in vain as Enjolras yelled at him, called him names, kicked him out and glared. There was an awful lot of glaring.

Combeferre however was always there to put a hand on Enjolras' shoulder and whisper "Leave it." or "We have more important things to worry about." Which Grantaire had to give him credit for. No one should be allowed to have that little of a temper. It just wasn't fair to the rest of the world.

"What came up?" Grantaire asked again, taking a swing from the wine bottle in front of him. He could have poured himself a glass but then he wouldn't have had the pleasure of Enjolras' disapproving look.

"Our lease's got canceled. We're homeless."

"You can't just crash on someones couch for a while?"

"ALL our lease's got canceled. except you and Marius." Enjolras decided to join the conversation again, his voice sharp.

Grantaire looked around the room at his friends. Joly gave him a small, sad nod confirming Enjolras' words and Bahorel gave a small smile paired with a shrug.

"Can they do that?" Grantaire asked. Shocked. Stunned. For the first time, probably ever, mad at the government.

"No." Enjolras roared. "We're making this up." Sarcasm didn't suite him. Not that it wasn't attractive on him. Everything was attractive on him. It just wasn't as attractive as everything else and it reminded Grantaire a little too much of himself. That completely defied the point of Enjolras whom Grantaire admired so because he was as different from Grantaire as humanly possible.

"Why didn't they do the same to me?"

"Why would they? You don't actually participate in any of our protests or riots. You just sit there with a bottle, mocking us."

"Okay. Marius then. Why didn't they kick him out?"

"We're still working on that." Combeferre said but everyone knew he still had his flat for the same reason Grantaire did. They where just more polite when it came to Marius. Apparently not committing to the cause because of a girl was more acceptable then not committing because of- well- lack of belief/motivation/will to live?

"Okay. So I'll house half of you. Marius will house the other half and you guys will figure something out. You always do."

Enjolras is about to say something. Angrily. But Combeferre stopes him with the usual hand on the shoulder. Grantaire is a little envious about how often Combeferre get's to do that but doesn't dwell on that.

"That's not all. We've all gotten fired from our jobs. Joly, Courfeyrac and I have been expelled. I think we're even banned from the Uni grounds. The government is fighting back, Grantaire and we're a group of 13 if you count Cosette and Musichetta-"

"Why would you ever not count me?" Musichetta chimes in from on top of Bossuet's lap.

"As I was saying." Combeferre continues. "There's only 13 of us on a good day. We can't exactly win in a fist fight against the government or France, let alone all of it's allies."

In the five years that followed that complete disaster that was 2016 the world fell to peaces. More and more people with no regard for human rights where put in charge and more and more citizens of those nations turned there backs on equality. France, England, Whales, Spain, and Portugal allied up to try and convince the rest of Europe to join them in there attempts to 'make everything better' which actually meant making everything worse. With America and Russia backing them up the situation looked pretty dire and the people where given less writes and less of a say. The death penalty was back, and a lot of things where punishable.

Combeferre wasn't wrong about there chances in a fist fight, or even a fight in which they where armed. They'd only managed to get about half a dozen good hit's in when the police started taking them in at the last weeks protest. About five of those hit's where courtesy of Bahorel which was an important fact, Grantaire thought.

Okay, so admittedly Enjolras and Combeferre where right. Grantaire hated it when that happened. The ABC needed somewhere to go, somewhere where they could continue to believe they had a chance of making a difference and the sea did sound like the only option at that point. Even if it was a bad one.

"Fine. You win. Go have fun on your sail boats but don't come crawling back to me when the whalers kill you." He was in the middle of getting up and leaving, he figured he could always say his farewell to Joly and the others after the meeting, when Enjolras stopped him with and unwelcome, mostly unwelcome, hand on his forearm.

"Grantaire, I know you don't believe in anything we do, and you've never shown any interest in helping us achieve any of our goals, but we need you for this to work."

"Yeah? Why's that?"

"You and Musichetta are the only two people in this room who know how to sail."

"WHO TOLD HIM?" Grantaire almost yelled. He glared at Musichetta then at Joly then at Bossuet. They where meant to be his friends. Those three, plus Bahorel and Eponine who where both missing at this meeting, more then the others and here they where talking to Enjolras about him behind his back.

"We didn't. I swear-" Joly started but didn't get too far before Enjolras cut in.

"You told me, Grantaire. You told me one night when you where really drunk and called my mobile by accident. I think you where trying to reach Eponine. You told me you missed sailing and how you used to be good at it and how you sometimes thought about competing again."

Grantaire remembered that phone call. It wasn't an accident. He just pretended it was after he realised what he was doing. He didn't, however, remember spilling his heart to Enjolras about something as trivial as sailing, a hobby he swore to stomp out the day his grandfather died.

"Please Grantaire." Enjolras said, loosening his grip on Grantaire's arm. "We need you."

"Fuck. FINE." Grantaire groaned. He couldn't say no to Enjolras especially when he asked like that, like he actually needed Grantaire. In fact Grantaire would have probably thrown himself off a cliff for Enjolras if there had been a 'please' and a 'we need you' in the request, so what was he meant to do but follow orders and sign the contract for his own emotional demise.


	2. The last moments of 'Normal'

The next day was a busy one. Grantaire had always thought that he'd be able to disappear off of the face of the earth in a matter of hours if he ever needed to. He was wrong.

When he was a kid and then later a teen Grantaire's grandfather had taken him sailing in the holiday's for multiple weeks at a time which taught him a lot about yachts, including the fact that there isn't a whole lot of space on them.

Having been drunk and not really paying attention when Combeferre and Enjolras filled him in on what was going to happen he was sure of only five things:

1\. They would be on the boats for a long time. Well, until the people of France where willing to fight for there land back, so Grantaire figured he might as well get used to the idea of living out the rest of his life on the sea.

2\. He'd be skipper (captain) of one of the boats while Chetta captained the other.

3\. Not a single person in 'his crew' knew even the basics about boats. Bloody hell, who thought this was a good idea?

4\. He'd only have room for the basics. So clothes and Alcohol.

5\. Chetta's boat would be the radio station and his... well, he stopped listening at that point.

First things first, Grantaire packed everything he was going to bring into a backpack and a cardboard box. He didn't actually pack the cardboard box yet but he kept it close, for later.

He packed three t-shits, and three loose fitted, soft fabriced, short sleeved button ups, one pair of shorts, one pair of board shorts, one pair of sweats, five boxers and five pairs of socks. Considering that they where going to be on the water he figured washing clothes every other day should't be too much of a problem.

After stuffing in his favourite hoodie, the green one with the pint stains, and a towel into there bag there's just enough space left for his toiletries and a couple of books. Scanning his shelf he eventually settled for 'The Odyssey' and 'The Iliad'. If he's honest it was never really a question. In the end he would have always picked those two books no matter how much we was going to miss some of the other ones he had.

His collection of things wasn't a big one, not at all. Just a few clothes, a few books and a few mediocre at best paintings of his friends. And of Enjolras whom he couldn't really call a friend but painted most of all.

Then there where, of course, the brushes and tubes upon tubes of paint which Grantaire was most sad to say goodbye too. Clothe: he didn't need to be happy, books: he was sure his friends (Combeferre and Jehan most of all) would bring plenty that he could borrow, paints: that was his thing, his form of escapism, his happiness and he was willing to leave it all behind. What for? To follow Enjolras out to sea? He hand't decided yet if any of it was worth it. Not that he'd stay behind if it wasn't.

Everything Grantaire didn't pack he packed into two boxes. The box for donations (Enjolras would be so proud) and the box for his mother. The box for his mother was filled mostly with his paintings and a book or two that he's particularly enjoyed. Just in case they ever came back, as unlikely as it was.

The second box had everything else he owned in it and it was that box that he dropped of at a small, church that was know to have stayed away from corruption whiles everyone else seemed to fold so easily.

It's almost noon by the time Grantaire has dropped his stuff off at his mother's, told her where she'd be able to find his car and then tried to convince her that everything was fine and she should worry and of course they'd see each other again. The last bit, of course, was a lie.

Lying to his parent's was something Grantaire had mastered by a very young age. 'I love you too' was the most common one. But he never felt bad. What was a lie that was just echoing another?

 _Don't be late_. Grantaire looked at the text message he'd received from an un known number he guessed must be wither Combeferre of Enjolras. Everyone else was in his contacts. Looking at his watch he realised that he only had about two hours to get to the grocery store and then to the harbour. Late was going to happen weather Enjolras liked it or not.

At the shop the cardboard box, he'd set aside came in handy. He piled everything he'd bought into it, hiding the bottles of wine and rum under the caned goods and packs of pasta.

Eight bottles of cheep wine, two bottles of slight less cheep wine, for the unlikely event of an even, and two bottle of rum where going to make this journey with him, and he was prepared to fight someone to ensure it.

Usually Grantaire wasn't much of a rum kid of guy. He'd always favoured wine to anything else, despite the fact that it made him feel like a pretentious prick, but if they where going to be pirates they might as well do it right.

There where also a rather large amount of water bottles in the mix because country to popular belief Grantaire wasn't stupid, just a little (a lot) self destructive and a bit of an ass.

Not that it mattered that he thought about keeping everyone hydrated. It didn't matter to Enjolras. That much was obvious when he parked the car and almost as soon as the door was open even a centimetre heard the irritated: "You're late."

"Only by a couple of minutes." Courfeyrac said pulling Grantaire into a hug making it quite difficult for him to unload the trunk. "I'm glad you came."

"Uh. Thanks. I couldn't let you have all the fun with our fierce leader here and his right hand nerd. Speaking of, where is Combeferre. It's so strange to seep you with out him there to keep you from punching someone."

"Don't do that." Courfeyrac said, but he was still smiling at Grantaire, he was always smiling. Enjolras on the other hand, very much was not.

This whole thing was a disastrous idea, a catastrophe in the making, an avalanche of adversity and a whole bunch of equally as terrible, and equally as dramatic things like that.

Oh how Grantaire wished he'd never joined Bahorel to Feuilly's birthday where Enjolras had been sitting on the couch looking like a god and sounding like so much more when ever he opened his mouth to speak. Then maybe he would have been spared the torture that was undoubtably awaiting him.


	3. A pretty sweet boat and a pretty bad day

The boats where nice, really nice. And a little part of Grantaire got exited over the prospect of being on the sea again, sailing from bay to bay, throwing anchor, snorkelling, falling asleep under the stars and to the sound of the waves braking on the hull of the boar. Not that Grantaire would admit that to anyone.

"So, which one's mine?" Both boat's where identical from the outside, except for the names in white letters along the dark blue of the hulls, and Grantaire figured that most of the differences between the two where probably hidden bellow deck.

"We have 'Prometheus'." Enjolras sad reaching out his arms, offering to take Grantaire's bag. Grantaire didn't notice, however, having been too preoccupied with being torn between pleased about the name of the boat and displeased with the fact that Enjolras said we. In the end it was the later that he felt he needed to address.

"We? We're on the same boat? This ought to be fun. We should have the others place bets of which one of us is going to die first at the other's hand. My bet is on me."

Courfeyrac is amused. Grantaire can tell, but then again, when isn't Courfeyrac amused? Enjolras on the other hand looks like he wants Grantaire to win that bet, by all means necessary.

"Look, I know you're not happy about this arrangement. Do you think I am? The least we can do is try to be civil about it."

"Again with the 'we'." Grantaire was purposely trying to wind him up at this point. "Carful or someone's going to think we're a couple."

Enjolras glared. Grantaire felt accomplished. Courfeyrac laughed.

Judging by the way the interior of his boat was dressed Grantaire felt it was safe to assume that he had pulled the short straw. There was a kitchen, well, it was really more of a stove, rigged in a way that it was always upright, no matter the position of the boat, a small fridge and a sink. Not that they need anything more, really.

Opposite of the kitchen was a small, very small, almost too small, table surrounded by the couches that doubled as storage. How they where all meant to fit around there for meals was a mystery.

The thing that took up most space was the navigations desk which, in his grandfathers yacht, had been relatively small with one seat of one person. This navigations desk had two seat's on either side of it and wasn't stacked with only maps and other navigators tools but books and folders and what looked like Combeferre's laptop.

Much like in his grandfathers boat there was a small toilet, which Grantaire would probably have to teach everyone to use, and three cabins. One large one in the front and two smaller ones in the back.

Assuming that the other boat had the same general layout that meant that there where six cabins all in all. Six cabins for 13 people.

"Oh man. Which god to I need to pray to to make all of this go away?"

"Grantaire. What's wrong?" Jehan said emerging from the cabin in the front, hair in the usual braid and in a shirt that looked like it might have belonged to Jimi Hendrix.

"Jean. Thank the god that I haven't yet decided upon. Please tell me you're my room mate, or Eponine."

"Actually-" Enjolras spoke from behind him and in a sudden realisation Grantaire's world ended. He tuned to look at the blond who stared back but not in the same hostile way that he usually did. Instead he looked- sorry?

"Oh you've- You're taking the piss right?" He groaned. "Am I being punished? Is this all some elaborate plan to get me back for never trying hard enough?"

"I know you're not happy about-"

"Yeah, yeah. Neither are you. I know. We've been over this already." Grantaire hissed. He didn't need Enjolras repeating how little he wanted to have to anywhere near Grantaire. Knowing it was enough, having it confirmed twice in an hour by the man himself was an unnecessary kind of suffering that Grantaire was no where near masochistic enough for.

"Look, it's fine. I'll just sleep in the cockpit."

"The what?"

"The- You know. On deck." Grantaire was hit with the second world shattering realisation: No one knew ANYTHING what so ever. He was going to have to start from scratch with these people. "Oh man. I- I need a cigarette."

Grantaire didn't like to smoke, not really but if it bought him a few minutes on his own, a few minute in which he could pretend none of this was happening, then he was willing to put his lungs though hell for a while.

As the day went on it got progressively more devastating. First he had to listen to Enjolras bitch about just how much alcohol he'd managed to pack and completely overlook the fact that he'd also made sure to get enough food and water to last them at least two weeks.

After that Courfeyrac sat him down to tell him exactly who would be sailing in his boat with him and who'd get the other boat. Courfeyrac and Jehan he was happy to have in his crew, Enjolras, Combeferre, Marius and Cosette however, where a different matter.

"That's not fair." Grantaire groaned. "Musichetta get's to run the party boat with all of my mates and I'm stuck here with the politically correct dream team."

"Thanks, mate." Courfeyrac actually looked a little hurt by Grantaire's words which made him fell a little bad.

"Sorry. Not you. Or Jehan. You guys are great. But come on. Enjolras hates me, Combeferre only puts up with me because he's a better person then the rest of us and I have next to nothing in common with Mr. and Mrs. Marius Pontmercy."

"I know. I know you'd rather be over there with Joly, Bossuet, Bahorel and Eponine and Combeferre and I tried to make the living arrangements as painless as possible, we really did but this was unavoidable. We're really sorry."

"What about Feuilly?"

"What about him?" Courfeyrac asked, taking a seat next to Grantaire. He'd been standing before which would have made Grantaire nervous had he not been used to people, mainly Enjolras, looming over him at the meetings.

"Enjolras loves him. Can I triad places with him?"

"He doesn't know how to sail."

"Oh right."

That was exactly the next thing on the list of things that made Grantaire's life hell. He spent a whole three hours trying to teach his crew that basics of sailing and failed completely.

"Okay. You know what. Fuck it." He had never been that frustrated before and that included the time he accidentally saw Enjolras in nothing but boxers.

In the end he assigned each person a rope and told them that there only job was to pull on, or release said rope when told to do so and only when told to do so.

Cosette, who was surprisingly the only one capable of retaining any of the knowledge Grantaire had fed them made it clear that she was there to help in any way possible.

"Strange how a bunch of academics can't remember something as simple as which side is starboard and which side is port." Grantaire told her as she helped him fill up the water tank.

"They're stressed. Give them time to adjust to they're live being uprooted."

"You're doing fine." He pointed out.

"My life was uprooted the day they executed my father. I've had half a year to come to terms with it."

"Right." There had been gossip and rumours about Cosette's father but Grantaire hadn't been sure weather or not to believe them. It didn't make sense that anyone related to sweet, lovely Cosette could do anything to be in trouble with the law. "I'm sorry about your dad."

Cosette just shrugged. "The way I see it I can either be sad about it, or I can make them pay."

"So you think this pirate radio thing is going to work out then?"

"Maybe, maybe not. I just think it's important that we try."

"Right." Grantaire said again. "Try." It wasn't really his thing. In the words of Master Yoda 'Do or do not, there is no try' and Grantaire was very much a 'do not' kind of guy.

"We leave at dawn." Combeferre had informed everyone after they had a pretty shitty dinner sitting on the pier talking about this and that, everyone making an extra effort to avoid talking about what there lives would be like after that night.

"Great." Grantaire said with fake enthusiasm. "Any of you lads care to join me at the closest pub?"

"Always." Joly and Bossuet said in unison and together, with Bahorel, Feuilly, Courfeyrac and Eponine they made there way off to get smashed one last time before there lives changed for good.


	4. The first Manoeuvre

Two very helpful tips to waking up felling good, by Grantaire.

1\. Don't drink an entire bottle of wine in one night.

2\. Don't sleep on the hard wood of a sailboats cockpit.

He would have added '3. Don't be in the same social circle as Enjolras.' but figured that that only applied to a limited amount of people (12 to be exact) all of whom very cleverly avoided both 1 and 2.

"Wake up! You're asleep on the floor." Enjolras scolded, nudging Grantaire with his foot.

"Oh for the sake of my sanity, would you just step over me and leave me alone?" First unfortunate fact of the early morning: Throwing your arm over your eyes may allow you to sleep further when it's bright out but it's not quite as efficient against a pissed of, devilishly handsome blond, with an unreasonably hard foot.

"We're meant to leave in an hour."

"It's still dark out." Grantaire protested.

"All there better. No one will know which direction we're going in."

"Uh- I hate you sometimes."

"Ditto."

Ouch. That hurt. Sure Grantaire had it coming but that didn't mean it hurt any less.

With a groan and a headache he pulled himself off the ground and made his way below deck to change into something fresh and mentally prepare himself for the day ahead of them.

Everyone had breakfast, everyone except for Grantaire that is who choked down a chocolate bar and some apple juice and decided he could go on that until lunch.

"Hey, good luck today." Musichetta startled Grantaire by showing up suddenly beside him. He'd spent most of the morning standing next to the wheel staring straight ahead while the others sat on the pier and must have been very out of it to not notice Musichetta get on board.

"Uh- Thanks. You too."

"I'm not worried about me. I've been teaching Joly and Bossuet how to sail little by little over the last few months. They're not yet good on there own but at least they know which one is the Jib Sheet."

"Ah. You heard my yelling then?"

"It wasn't easy to miss." Musichetta laughed. "I think my favourite bit might have been: 'It's called port you fool. PORT!"

Grantaire couldn't help but smile. Musichetta always knew how to make him feel better even though she didn't really say or do much. It was more her presence then anything else that sent that warm fuzzy feeling through Grantaire's body and although he didn't fancy her he completely understood why Jolly and Bossuet did.

She gave a quick hug, squeezing tight before excusing herself to prep her boat to leave.

It was about two seconds after she left that Enjolras stepped onto the boat looking at Grantaire like he'd done something terribly wrong. That being said, it was about two second after Musichetta left the boat that the air of 'everything is fine' she'd left behind disappeared.

Once all the others had packed on Grantaire asked Marius to pop bellow deck and please switch the flip that would turn the battery on. It took four tries until he got the correct switch. There where only four switches.

"Jehan. Courfeyrac. Can you untie us and then stay make sure we don't bump into anything?" He asked throwing on the motor. Both of them promised to do there best which apparently was enough because they made it out of the marina with out crashing into anything, Musichetta's boat on there heel.

"Ferre, can you go bellow deck and try to get in touch with Bossuet."

"Sure."

"You need to say 'This is Prometheus calling Odysseus-"

"I'm familiar with Walkie talkie etiquette thanks." Combeferre said in a tone that should have sounded hateful but didn't.

"Just making sure." Grantaire calls after him. "Don't forget to say 'over'."

Through Combeferre and Bossuet, Musichetta and Grantaire decide that Prometheus is going to raise it's sails first and once they're set Odysseus will follow there lead. Seeing as the entire interior of Odysseus is dedicated to the radio transmission there isn't space for navigation leaving Grantaire's boat ENTIRELY in charge of that. A deception only Grantaire seams to understand the true idiocy of.

No one would listen to him, which wasn't really a surprise, but he figured it would be fun to throw in an 'I told you so' should Odysseus get stuck in some shallow waters.

"Okay. I'm going to steer into the wind and when I say go, Enjolras you pull on the rope I assigned you. You guys can help him because it will be kinda tough. Okay?"

"Okay."

Grantaire steered into the wind and the shouted "Go." Enjolras pulled. Combeferre helped him. And together they managed to rase the mainsail half of the way up before they started to struggle.

"Use the winch." Grantaire instructed.

"The what?" Enjolras called back.

"Oh for fucks sake. Cosette, come here. Okay you see that cloud? Keep the boat moving towards that cloud."

"Got it." Cosette smiled at him, taking over the wheel, giving grantaire the opportunity to grab the Halyard out of Enjolras' hands and throw it a couple times around the winch. He then gave it back to them and instructed them to pull some more, until the sail was all the way up, before turning to Marius and Jehan and helping them hoist the Jib.

It was a task that really should not have been as tiring as it was. Especially with six other people there to help him.

Once both sails where up and Marius was ducking away from the flapping of the plastic fabric Grantaire took over the wheel again, asked Cosette to kill the motor and then steered the boat back into the right direction.

Most of the morning was spent sailing with the wind, an easy course that required little mrauvering which meant that Grantaire could stay, standing behind the wheel with out having to worry about anything other then where he pointed the boat.

It felt good to be back on the sea, wind blowing in his hair, the smell of salt all around him and the sound of the waves. It reminded him of his grandfather, the only person Grantaire really believed in, well, before Enjolras that is.

Everyone pretty much leaves him alone other then when Combeferre has something to say about there rout or when Jehan and Cosette take turns checking on him and asking if he needs one of them to take over. Each time they do he refuses with a smile and a 'thank you'.

The alone time didn't bother him, not that he was really alone with Enjolras sitting int he cockpit furiously scribbling something into a notebook and Courfeyrac laying, half naked in the sun and Combeferre, Cosette and Jehan walking back and forth between the cockpit and the quarters below deck, sometimes stoping to make conversation with each other or Enjolras.

If things had continued on like this then Grantaire thought it would all be fine. Of course, that was too much to ask and the universe had different plans, suddenly chaining the direction of the wind.

"Are you fucking- UG." Grantaire groaned as his sails started to flutter. "Okay. Uh. Marius. Marius? Fucking hell man, you need to pulling you're rope."

Marius was no where to be found.

"I'll do it." Cosette said finding the proper sheet quickly and throwing it around the winch a few times, like Grantaire had done before. He made a mental note to thank her later and apologies for having always thought he was kind of boring. Well maybe he wouldn't tell her that, but he'd stop thinking it.

Once the Jib was pulled in enough and he let Cosette know she could stop pulling, he reached for the mainsheet and tried to pull it in while still manning the wheel.

"Here, let me." Enjolras, who had placed down his notebook to observe the situation said taking the sheet from Grantaire.

"Tell me when to stop pulling."

"When the sail stops- yeah. Now. Stop pulling now." Enjolras fastened the sheet in one swift movement, remembering what Grantaire had said the day before or copying what Grantaire, and Cosette, had done earlier.

"Thanks."

"No problem." It was weird to work together with Enjolras. Not a harsh word was exchanged, not a glare was glared. And sure it was only about two minutes of cooperation but it was a good two minutes.


	5. It's not that difficult

Fortunately for everyone, mainly Grantaire but also everyone, there wind was still coming at them from the side which meant after the small adjustment of the sales there wasn't any manoeuvring to be done.

That was until Combeferre picked out the port they would be staying in that night and Grantaire had to somehow talk everyone though lowering the sails.

"Guys, it's not that difficult. One of you slowly releases the rope bit by bit and the rest of you gather up the sail as it comes down and stuff it into the- no one like that. You know what. Leave it. It's fine. Leave it. I'll fix it later."

The jib was a little easier to get down since all that was involved was releasing one rope and pulling another. Still Musichetta had her sails down long before Grantaire did and was motoring around in circles. Forwards and then backwards and then forwards again. Almost like she was bored waiting for Grantaire's boat.

Trying to anchor was even more of an ordeal. The original plan was to anchor the two boats next to each other so that they could move from one to the next with out a problem. Grantaire like this idea because then he could climb over and talk to Eponine in hushed whispers about how hopeless there crushes where and maybe talk to Musichetta about trading Jolly and Bossuet for Marius and Enjolras for a couple of days. Of course Musichetta would say no but there was no harm in asking.

Long story short: That plan did not work out and they ended up anchoring separately, much to Grantaire's dismay.

After he was sure the anchor was secure he killed the motor and pretended to check the chain, which didn't really need checking. Any excuse to have a few moments on his own at the front of the boat.

"Hey. Sorry about Marius." Cosette said, startling him. How where all the girls in his life so silent in there movements. God knows how often Eponine had unintentionally snuck up on him. "Don't be mad at him. He's just not feeling well."

Grantaire sighed. What else was he meant to do. "It's fine. Is it seasickness?"

"I think so."

"Give him a few days to get used to the motion. It'll pass."

"Thanks." Cosette left him alone once more.

Grantaire was pretty sure everyone knew that he wasn't doing anything other then sitting there and staring out to sea but the way he figured it, he'd done more for the ABC in the last 48 hours then he'd done since he started hanging out with them and going to the meetings so he was fully within his rights to take some time off.

The sun was setting on the horizon when Musichetta and Feuilly took a dingy from there boat to Grantaire's. Did Prometheus also have a dingy? Or was this one of those stupid things where only one boat gets one, like with the maps and other navigation tools?

Apparently all of Enjolras' scribbles where actually scripts and ideas for the pirate radio channel that was meant to begin streaming at midnight that night. Bossuet and Bahorel where in charge of the music and Feuilly was in charge of the propaganda. ("For the love of god, Grantaire. It's NOT propaganda.")

Or so Musichetta told him while Feuilly talked things over with Enjolras, Combeferre and Courfeyrac.

"I heard Marius got seasick."

"Of course he did. I mean of bloody course."

"Be nice." Musichetta warned.

"Have you met me?"

"Be nice." She repeated. "Even to yourself."

Grantaire groaned. He could be nice to Marius if need be, being nice to himself, however was a different matter. "How was your day?" He asked trying to change the topic.

Musichetta explained how she'd had fun and how her crew worked together really well up until Bossuet slipped and hit his head. The injury wasn't too bad apparently but that didn't stop Joly from fussing him bellow deck and fussing over him for a couple of hours leaving only Eponine and Bahorel available for when the wind changed (Feuilly was taking a nap). Still they managed just fine.

The way Musichetta told Grantaire everything with excitement and plenty of giggles made him wish more then ever that he was on the other boat. He wouldn't need to be in charge then, just hang out and pull a few ropes when Musichetta asked him too. Not to mention he'd be able to joke around with Joly and Bossuet and then with Bahorel when Joly panicked of Bossuet, and he'd be very far from Enjolras who's presence he was always aware off on such a small vessel.

When it was time for Feuilly and Musichetta to go back to there boat Grantaire was left sitting there, miserable.

"R, your main sail is hanging into the cockpit." Musichetta yelled at him as there dingy passes him and he almost didn't hear her over the sound of the outboard motor.

"Fuck." He sighed to himself, forcing himself to get up and sort out the sail. Not because it bothered him or because it was proper but because his grandfather would have been disappointed had he left it as it was.

"Courfeyrac told me you want to switch places with Feuilly." Enjolras said, stepping up to help Grantaire tuck the sail in against the boom.

"Courfeyrac." Grantaire growled quietly. Did he have any friends that didn't' sell him out to Enjolras every chance they got? Eponine maybe.

"He told be because I asked."

"You asked about me? Should I be flattered?"

"I asked because you look miserable."

"In similar news: Joly's a hypochondriac and Marius is insane." Had it been anyone else he where talking to they would have told him to stop being so mean to Marius but Enjolras seemed to agree on the matter and sometimes even yelled at Marius the way he yelled at Grantaire. Not nearly as often as he yelled at Grantaire but it was still nice that he wasn't the only one Enjolras had issues with.

"If you teach me then we won't need you anymore." Enjolras offered.

"Ouch." He grabbed his chest in fake hurt which was actually real hurt pretending to be fake.

"No, what I mean is you'll be able to switch with Feuilly."

"You want me to teach you how to sail?" Grantaire snorted. "Aren't you too busy trying to overthrow the government through with pop music?"

" I KNOW YOU DON'T CARE FOR ANYTHING BUT-" Enjolras cut himself of to take a very obvious, very large breath which somehow was enough for him to not continue his rant. A phenomenon thus far unknown to Grantaire. "I'm just trying to help."

"In similar news: I'm miserable."

"YOU KNOW WHAY?" Yet another exaggerated breath on Enjolras' part. " You know what? Fine. Forget it."

"I DON'T KNOW WHY YOU'RE TRYING TO HARD NOT TO YELL AT ME." Grantaire shouted after Enjolras who abandoned Grantaire to finish packing up the sail on his own.

In retrospect Enjolras' proposal to learn sailing did make sense. Sure he'd learn eventually considering that they would probably, almost certainly, be on the sea for a long time but if Grantaire actively tired to show him the ropes (no pun intended) then he could be switching places with Feuilly in three weeks? Two maybe.

Of course in order for Grantaire to actively teach Enjolras something he'd have to 'actively teach' it to him which was a lot more one on one time with the object of his affection, who, incase we have forgotten, wasn't all to found of Grantaire, then anyone was comfortable with. Especially with Enjolras' new, strange habit of trying not to yell. What was that about?

Enjolras and company had dinner below deck that night. Only Grantaire ate in the cockpit.


	6. Shifts

Considering that Grantaire had slept under the open sky, this time with a sleeping bag to make the experience ever so slightly more comfortable, it was no surprise that he woke up with the sun.

He stuck his head below deck to see if anyone was up yet. The door to the front cabin, which Combeferre, Courfeyrac and Jehan were sharing was still closed so his safest bet was that all three of them where still asleep.

The door to Cosette and Marius' cabin was equally as closed. Only the door to the cabin that Grantaire was meant to be sharing with Enjolras was open and Enjolras, who was very awake was sitting at the navigation table typing away at Combeferre's laptop.

"Good morning." He said, not looking up from what he was doing as Grantaire descended into the below deck living quarters.

"Is it?"

"It has the potential to be."

Whenever the two of them fought, which was, admittedly, most of the time, it didn't seem to affect Enjolras much. Grantaire would do his best to provoke reaction, Enjolras would try argue with him, Grantaire wouldn't let loose, Enjolras would yell. But by the next time the two of them saw each other, weather it be five minutes later or at the next meeting, things where as though they had never fought. Things where back to normal. Then again, fighting was normal.

"I'm sorry about last night." Grantaire said with out really wanting to. He never apologies before, but being stuck on a two boat fleet together was as good a reason as any to start. "Of course I'll teach you to sail if you want me to."

"Thank you, R. Maybe we can start later?"

"Uh. I'm not sure we'll be sailing later." Grantaire admitted. "There doesn't seem to be any wind today." It was strange, the previous day had been more then ideal in terms of wind but when he woke he was forced to realise that it was no longer so.

"Maybe you could just teach me the terminology then."

"Uh. Sure."

By the time everyone had woken up the wind situation had not improved. Marius felt better though, which Grantaire reluctantly counted as a little victory. Combeferre and Courfeyrac somehow convinced Enjolras that it was okay if they stayed in the bay for one more day and with that Grantaire realised he'd need to find a way to keep himself busy.

He'd probably open one of the bottles of wine be decided to do so later in the day, when Enjolras was less likely to judge him for it. It probably didn't matter when he opened the bottle and Enjolras' opinion of him probably wouldn't improve not matter what he did, still a little denial never hurt anyone.

If only there was a way for Grantaire to get to the other boat, then maybe he could talk to Eponine about how she could do so much better then a lanky weird dude who on top of everything else, got seasick. Except there was a way.

Grantaire pulled his shirt over his head first and then undid the button of his shorts.

"What are you doing?" Jehan asked almost amused.

"Going for a swim."

"You can't" Marius looked as though Grantaire had said something completely preposterous, like: 'I'm going to read Harry Potter and NOT enjoy it.'

"Watch me." He flung his shorts at Enjolras, gave him wink and then jumped over the railing of the boat and tired for the biggest splash possible. Grantaire wasn't a big guy exactly. In fact, Joly made a habit of pointing out how malnourished he looked, so the splash maybe wasn't as dramatic as it could have bin but there wasn't much anyone could do about that, unfortunately.

Once he got to Odysseus he was greeted by Eponine who gave him a towel and told him to be quiet. From bellow deck he could hear Joly's voice: "Personally, I miss my freedom of speech. I miss being able to complain with out the fear of getting arrested, I miss being able to believe what I believe and love whom I love, I even miss being able to swear for fucks sake."

They weren't Joly's words. Grantaire knew Joly well enough to know that's not what he spoke like. But they weren't Enjolras' words either, not entirely. It was more like they where Enjolras' words with a hint of someone else. Jehan maybe.

"And I played along for a while. I shrugged off the fact that I was the one who got fined when I was called a fag for wearing a skirt-" Definitely Jehan "I ignored the hate some of my friends got because I knew that speaking up might land me in a cell but you know what? I'm done playing nice."

After he finished talking 'No More Mr. Nice Guy" from Alice Cooper started playing and Eponine informed Grantaire that it was safe to talk again.

"Is this live?"

"Yup."

"We're actually doing it? We've become a pirate radio station? What the actual fuck." The whole thing was so bizarre. The fact that Alice Cooper and a hundred other bands and artist had actually banned on mainstream radio was also bizarre. The world was bizarre.

"They usually play three or four songs and then talk some." Eponine explained. " When the talking happens we need complete silence below deck and in the cockpit. We can talk on the bow though. If we're quiet."

"How long's the show?" Grantaire asked once they where both laying on the bow of the boat, staring up at the ridiculously blue sky.

"It's continuous." Eponine sighed.

"What? 24/7?"

"Yeah."

"And in the night? Or if the motor is on?"

"In times like that we just play a bunch of illegal songs. But Enjolras has been radioing Feuilly about making the whole thing more efficient. I think they want to do shifts, so we can go thought the night. So far it's only Bossuet and Joly who do any like talking."

"It's scripted, yeah?"

"Yeah. Combeferre though it would be smart to start of with scripts and then work out way up to improv."

"This is fucking mental." Grantaire sighed.

"I know. But we have to try."

"So I've been told."

"Enjolras?"

"Cosette actually."

Once Grantaire had had the opportunity to talk to everyone and joke around with most of them he thought it best to head back to Prometheus. What Eponine had said about taking shifts had given him an idea, an idea that might be unnecessary and total over kill but he figured if they where going to defy the government so seamlessly a little paranoia could only be a good thing. Or maybe Joly was finally starting to rub of on him.

"Ferre. Nice." Grantaire panted as he claimed back onto his own boat. Where are Enjolras and Courfeyrac? I want to run something by you guys."

It didn't take too long to get everyone, really everyone, Marius included, to gather around Grantaire. Of the six people looking at him four looked like they couldn't wait to hear what he had to say, one (Marius) looked like he was going to be sick and one, three guess as to who, looked like he just wanted to get it over with because he had better things to do, how could he not.

"Oh. Um. Well I think we should take shifts staying up at night."

No one said anything which Grantaire took as his queue to keep talking. "So sometimes if it's really windy you stay up to make sure that the boat doesn't slip while we're asleep and well it might be wise to do so always, not because of the wind but incase someone finds us. I mean we're actual fugitives now."

Jehan beamed like he never wanted anything more then to stay up alone from 3am to 4:30am. Both Courfeyrac and Combeferre where nodding. Cosette gave him a thumbs up and Marius did the same once he caught on. Only Enjolras didn't have a reaction. At all. Until he said: "Better safe then sorry."

"Exactly. That's what I was thinking. Anyway, I thought we could-" Grantaire stopped when he noticed Enjolras giving him a puzzled look.

"No, no. Carry on." Courfeyrac urged.

"Um. Well- Uh. We could do six shifts of one and a half hours. That totals to 9 hours so everyone get's at least 7 and a half hours of snooze time."

"There's seven of us." Enjolras pointed out. "Are you trying to weasel your way out of having to work?"

"No!" It was almost too harsh. Then again, so was assuming Grantaire wasn't willing to help, which granted, he often wasn't, but this was his idea for crying out loud. "I thought Marius and Cosette might want to share a shift. And uh- I was hopping I could have the last shift."

Enjolras almost looked sorry. Almost.

"I'm sure everyone would be okay with that." Combeferre said and almost everyone nodded in agreement. " What time would that be?"

"I guess it depends on when the first shift starts."

"Right. We could start at 22:00 which would mean your shift end at 7:00." The fact that the math seamed to be effortless for Combeferre really shouldn't have surprised Grantaire. Not after having known him for years.

"There's no way I'm sleeping anytime before 21:00, so I'll take the first shift if that's alright." Courfeyrac spoke up starting the distributions of shifts. In the end they settled for:

22:00 - 23:30 — Courfeyrac

23:30 - 1:00 — Jehan

1:00 - 2:30 — Marius and Cosette

2:30 - 4:00 — Combeferre

4:00 - 5:30 — Enjolras

5:30 - 7:00 — Grantaire


	7. Windwards

Towards the evening Grantaire managed to pluck up the courage to ask Enjolras if he maybe fancied learning the difference between a halyard and a sheet. Teasing was easy, arguing was easy, working together was difficult. None the less Enjolras said yes and Grantaire spent the rest of the day going over the basics once more.

"Port is left. It has the same amount of letters. And the other one side is starboard."

"Port left. Starboard right." Enjolras repeated.

"Okay. I think we're good for the day. It'll all more more sense when we've actually got wind in our sails.

Grantaire had a glass of wine before going to sleep that night. Well, he said 'glass' but it was actually more of a plastic cup, those hideous, things that suburban families kept in the camper vans that came in all different colours.

Afterwards he made his bed, which consisted of his sleeping bag and the deck, and begged everyone to let him sleep while they where on there shifts. Fortunately everyone was able to meet his demands and he didn't wake once until Enjolras' shift came to an end and his begun.

Having dreamt of Enjolras it was a bit of a trip to wake up to his face, not to far above Grantaire's own.

"It's 5:33 already. Wake up. I want to go back to sleep."

"You're getting upset over three minutes?" Grantaire mumbled, not quite awake yet, and not entirely convinced he wasn't still dreaming. "How perfectly anal of you. Have you spoken to Joly about forming a team of-"

"I'm tired, R." Enjolras cut him off. "I just want to sleep, okay?"

"Okay. Go. I'm up." To prove his point he pushed himself upright and forced a smile. Enjolras didn't look amused but disappeared into the comfort of his cabin anyway. There cabin?

Grantaire took a few moments to get out his iPod and make himself a cup of tea before getting comfortable on deck and watching the shore for any sign of- well, of anything really.

As expected nothing happened. They'd only just started actively braking the law, so Grantaire was willing to give it a few days before they made it onto the most wanted list.

Before he'd fallen asleep Courfeyrac asked why he wanted the morning shift. "So I can prepare some stuff for the day ahead of time." He'd said in the hopes that Courfeyrac would think he was actually contributing more then critique and negativity. However the truth was that Grantaire just really enjoyed a good sunrise, no matter how cliche it sounded.

Staring out to sea, with 'the Beatles' playing into his ears Grantaire watched the sky go from black to blue to pink to orange to yellow. The beginning of Apollos daily journey was as beautiful as all the times he'd witnessed it with his grandfather, the old man taking the little boy into his lap and telling him about all the different greek gods. Apollo had been his grandfathers favourite.

With the sun came the wind, blowing stronger then it had on their first day. Grantaire chanced a peak at the map on which Combeferre had drawn a rout in pencil, according to which they where to continue east, which incidentally was the direction from which the wind came.

"Today's sailing is going to be a little harder then last time." Grantaire explained to the others over breakfast. Marius looked instantly ill. "We can't sail towards the wind so we'll have to cross back and forth.

"We'll have to tack a few times and I'll need all of you to be at your posts when we do."

"Which one is tacking?" Cosette asked, raising her hand and everything.

"That's when we tun with the bow though the wind."

Everyone seemed pretty okay with letting Grantaire tell them what to so so he assigned roles. Cosette and Jehan where to man the jib sheet on starboard, Combeferre and Courfeyrac would take the one on port and Marius was under specific orders to stay on deck and keep his eyes on the horizon in the attempt to lessen his seasickness.

"What about me?" Enjolras asked.

"When you're not writhing content for Jehan's scripts I'll teach you how to man the wheel."

Retrieving the anchor was an ordeal, but setting sail was a much smoother process then in had been the first time round.

"No. Jehan. Cosette. You have to pull is as close as you can get it. Enjolras can you pull the man sail in a bit?"

"How?"

"The main sheet. That's the rope just there."

With the sails pulled in close and the boat sailing as head on to the wind as possible the boat started to slant, a completely normal phenomenon. Still a small panic broke out amongst the crew.

"Grantaire." Someone screeched.

"It's fine. This is normal." He called back as the boat boat slanted a little bit more.

Objectively speaking they weren't even slanting that much, barley 35 degrees but was obvious that most of his friends where scared, well, all of them except maybe Enjolras, who Grantaire suspected might be immune to fear.

With a sigh Grantaire steered leewards, lessening the angle between Prometheus and the sea. "You guys are no fun." He pouted.

Looking over at Odysseus he could tell that Musichetta wasn't going as easy on her crew as the boat slanted so much Grantaire could see the keel. Oh how he wished he where there instead, pushing hard against the wind, daring it to push back. Instead he was stuck playing it safe, not that they way Musichetta was sailing wasn't safe seeing as it was impossible to capsize with a kiel. Still if his crew was going to listen to him Grantaire figured he'd have to not traumatise them first.

"You want to be over there." Enjolras came up next to Grantaire after they'd tacked, almost flawlessly mind you, for the third time that day.

"Huh?"

"You keep looking over at Odysseus."

"Oh. Sorry."

"Don't be." Grantaire couldn't figure out why Enjolras was being so civil with him but he wasn't going to complain, especially not if Enjolras kept touching his shoulder like that.

"I'm sure we'll be sailing like that too. Just give these guys a few days to find there sea legs."

" Uh-huh." Grantaire wasn't really in the mood for that conversation. He wasn't really in the mood for Enjolras' pity or guilt or whatever it was that was suddenly forcing him to be friendly with Grantaire.

"Chetta has got an advantage. She's taken Bossuet and Joly sailing before."

"And the other three?"

"Eponine and Bahorel are fearless." Enjolras wasn't wrong about that but-

"Feuilly?"

"Feuilly's probably terrified. I'm not entirely sure he can swim. But when have you ever know Feuilly to let anything get to him. The man is superhuman. He worked three jobs and still had time to volunteer at homeless shelters."

"I know." Grantaire didn't need reminding that all of his friends where so amazing it was almost as though they belonged in classical literature. Then there was him, the weak minded, struggling, alcoholic artist who would feel right at home in some terrible, slow burn, coffee shop AU, with all the pining and the angst and he was 26 for fucks sake, he wasn't meant to know that much about fanfiction.

"What if-"

"What?" Enjolras asked.

"What if they just trust Musichetta more. I mean I'd probably be scared too if I where in charge." Enjolras looked at him like he was going to start yelling. "I am scared too." Grantaire added more quietly.

Immediately he wished he hadn't said it because once the words where out in the open Enjolras' expression changed from the pre-fight look that usually faced grantaire to something that resembled the way Eponine looked at him when he was busy spilling his drunken heart to her about his hopeless pining. It was pity. Good for nothing, motherfucking pity. Grantaire didn't want it. Grantaire didn't need it.

"Here." He said trying to give Enjolras anything else to think about. "Take over for a while."

"I'm not sure I-"

"It's easy. Don't worry." Grantaire encouraged. "And I'll stay right here, ready to step in if something goes wrong. Not that anything can go wrong on this course."

Enjolras reluctantly agreed and did a surprisingly good job considering it was his first time. Well, okay, not a 'surprisingly' good job, it was never surprising when Enjolras was good at something. It was normal.

The boat even salted a few times and Enjolras kept his cool, which Grantaire had to give him credit for. The fact that everyone seemed to be more comfortable with the slating of the boat now that it was Enjolras who was doing it was a fact that went unmentioned.


End file.
